“The Corporation would like to thank you for dying, and hope that you enjoy your new life.”
Quinn looked down at his – no, her – new body, and sighed.
“Godsdammit,” she said. “Why do I always get big boobs?”
A bored looking clerk glanced up from her workstation. “It’s completely random,” she said. “Maybe you’re just lucky.”
Quinn was about to say something, but she registered the look in the (rather flat chested) clerk’s eyes and shut her mouth.
“Counselling is available at a small charge should you feel traumatised by your recent death from… the Hollow Plague,” the clerk said, deviating only slightly from her practised monotone at the latest cause of death. “Although it appears from your file that you’re quite the regular customer so I imagine you know that.”
Quinn nodded. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just give me the bill and point me at the nearest transfer point.”
The clerk held up an opaque disc. “Down the corridor, at the end, on the right. Thank you for dying, please die again soon.”
Quinn took the chip and followed the clerk’s directions. At the transfer point, she got halfway through programming a trip to where she’d left off when she remembered that she was female now – her old male armour wouldn’t fit, and she’d probably need to practise with her new muscles before she could swing that big old Zweihander sword again. Going straight back to the castle without better preparation would inevitably mean a trip straight back to the Corporation again in short order.
With a sigh, she hit clear and programmed in a trip home instead. Much as she hated to let a bad guy kill her and get away with it, defeating the Pathomancer would have to wait.
Still, she told herself as the transfer orbs shimmered around her, at least this death hadn’t been as bad as that one time with the acid spiders.
© Kari Fay
(Author’s Note: A bit of a sci-fi/fantasy mash up here, which could be something interesting to expand on one day…)